Lady of the Lake
by hopelessromantic1470
Summary: *possible spoilers* I hated the way Morgana died, so I wrote this XD R&R please?


**Well, I HATED the ending of Merlin. Well, the last fifteen minutes or so, especially Morgana's death. There was no reconciliation, no moment with her and Arthur, no mention of their history. So, as she was my favourite character, and the most complex and therefore most interesting to me, I have rewritten her ending as I imagined it *yay* and will now forever block out the writer's ending... I hope you like it!**

She can see Mordred advancing closer towards him, and the thought of his death makes her smile. The Pendragons will be as dust in the wind, their hate forgotten, and magic will be free in Camelot again. She will be free. She's painfully thin after her imprisonment, her hair long, her eyes wild. She moves further down from where she stood before, eager to see Arthur fall. He betrayed her, left her alone.

Then the lightening comes, and her startled face looks towards the source. An old man, clothed in red, wielding a long yew staff, fire and power and glory on his face. She looks down to where Mordred is now facing the King, undaunted by the challenge, but the lightening continues, striking down her men. She starts to run to where they stand, wondering why Aithusa is not here. Then, the lightening strikes Mordred, and he falls. She can't help but scream in rage and concern, and then he looks towards her, his face blank but his eyes raging. He breaks her gaze to look at the old man, and then he nods to him, a strange look on his face.

She can feel her own rage rising.

"You're even worse than I believed Arthur Pendragon, a hypocrite. You seek his help to overcome me then kill him when the battle is done," She glares at him in contempt, preparing to reach her magic.

"Merlin," Arthur says suddenly

"What? Don't be ridiculous," She hisses back, angry at his distraction

"He has magic. Like you. Even though he knew our father would kill him he stayed to serve me, to serve you. How many times was he with us when we miraculously escaped?" He carries on. She stays silent, confusion running through her. What trick is he playing?

"No trick, Morgana," He says, and his sword drops to the floor. "No trick," He repeats, quietly.

A shout comes from behind them, and the old man is making his way down.

"Why would he help you? You would have him killed!" She bites out, trying to block away the images of the pit. Constricting her, trapping her. Her own screams, her pride gone.

"Is he dead before you?" Arthur presses, "He used his magic, always, to help me," His tone almost carried reproach, ane it irked her.

"I had no other choice! You were no different from Uther!" She almost screams at him

"Maybe once. Yet neither are you," His blue eyes meet her own, and she can feel her resolve wavering. No, it's all a lie. She stands straighter.

"I will never be him," It's almost like a reassurance as she says it.

The old man is nearly there now, the power still in his eyes, but now something else. Worry? She laughs at the thought of him being worried for Arthur, but then she thinks. He must have known about the old man for longer than he was letting on. Then why-

"You never told Uther," She says to him

He shakes his head. "I couldn't,"

Again she presses down the images that haunt her, that creep up on her.

"I didn't want to be alone," She says, very, very quietly, like a child. She looks down at Mordred, remembering all those years ago, tending to him in the castle. When Arthur helped him escape.

"You don't have to be," He returns, stepping forward just slightly.

"You don't know what I've done, Arthur. What he did. What I lost. What you've done," She bites out again

He shakes his head, "No."

Anger. Pity. Pride. Resentment. Loss.

She doesn't know what to think.

Then Mordred stirs. His eyes open as his minds shrieks out.

_Morgana!_

Of course he's alarmed, he sees her with Arthur.

The old man has reached them, but he's going to be too late as Mordred drives his sword, up, up, up towards the King. She doesn't even know why she does it, only images of two children sword fighting fill her mind as the sharp pain fills her side. She feels herself drop into somebody's arms as her knees buckle. As Mordred stares in shock before the old man, Merlin, knocks him out.

Arthur is crying. She's only ever seen him cry once before.

"Help her," He's saying, but he seems so far away.

Merlin is shaking his head. "Forged in a dragon's breath,"

She already knows, they can't save her.

"He was the druid boy," She whispers, and Arthur looks at her, and he understands.

"I just didn't want to be alone," She whispers again, and she thinks of Morgause, and Gorlois, and Aithusa. The pit. No, not the pit, and she forces the memories away again. She looks upwards, and sees the new day dawning.

"You're not," Arthur tells her, and his arms are holding her as her eyes close, the pain slowly leaving her.

She lies in the boat, perfectly still, her hands folded over her waist, dressed in white. Her long hair is brushed over her shoulders. The King and his servant stand by the shores of Avalon, a few members of the court behind them. The Knights.

The only time Arthur had ever cried in front of Morgana was when he was mourning the loss of a Knight, when he was very young. Slowly, dutifully, he folds the tiny brooch she gave him then into her cold palm.

"Goodbye," He whispers, and Merlin speaks behind him.

The boat moves of its own accord, and she sails away to the island, a lady of the lake.

**Well...I hope you liked it!**


End file.
